Netherfield
by XxDaminWolfbladexX
Summary: A little ficlet about Lts. Denny and Chamberlayne and their late absence from the Netherfield ball.


While procrastinating from writing my epic cough Marauder fic, I was watching Pride & Prejudice and decided to write a ficlet about Lieutenants Denny and Chamberlayne; who during the infamous dance at the Netherfield ball look very cosy against the wall in the background. I know that it is totally anti-canon so please do not flame me informing me of this fact, because rest assured I know (I've been watching the series repeatedly since I was ten – possibly younger - and enjoyed the book immensely). This is only meant as a little fun and the result of boredom and procrastination. Another item I should mention is that I realise I could have given both Denny and Chamberlayne first names but I didn't want to, surnames kind of suit the situation. And by giving them names I think I would have detracted from the story, maybe?

**Title: **Netherfield

**Author: **Damin Wolfblade (or XxDaminWolfbladexX – ridiculous isn't it?)

**Disclaimer: **I own none of the wonderful main characters – only the background extras. Jane Austen owns them and provided the fantastic setting of the Netherfield ball. Also certain credit must be given to the BBC for their 1995 TV adaptation that gave such marvellous faces to Denny and Chamberlayne.

**Rating: **M – just to be on the safe side. The actual sex scene isn't that graphic, but if you feel it is TELL ME and I will transfer it to my live journal, ok? No need to report me and get me kicked off. I do not mean to offend anybody.

**Warnings: **SLASH! You heard, so don't get pissed off at me if you failed to read this warning and your eyes melted and brain exploded as soon as you realised the nature of their relationship. Also my language is very 21st century; please forgive my inability to speak in a true period fashion. Another very important thing to note is that this is unbeta-ed. I'm the only one who has proof read it and that really isn't saying much. So sorry for errors in spelling, punctuation and grammar. If anyone whould like to edit it, just leave me a meassage saying so and I will gladly contact you.

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

"So remind me again why Wickham gets to make use of flimsy excuses for not attending but we had to come?"

Denny glanced at the dark haired man at his side and smiled at his discomfort. "Wickham's excuse was not flimsy, you know that as well as I," he paused and flicked his eyes from the younger man's face to the unusual couple that danced by. "And not only that but you also know that we are socially obligated to accept such a gracious offer. Not to mention the manner in which we would be hounded by Colonel Forster for a decent enough reason. And let us not forget Miss Lydia Bennet…" Chamberlayne rolled his eyes, but shrugged his acknowledgement of the truth of Denny's words. "I might also add that the reason you would rather be else where this evening is highly unacceptable." He turned his gaze back to Chamberlayne and smirked, raising an eyebrow almost imperceptivity. Surprisingly the dark-haired man did not blush, as he normally would but instead replied with a cheeky smile and a slight brush of his hand over Denny's.

The taller lieutenant glanced around the room, but no one was interested in them, all were diverted by the weaving dance that hosted both the elder Bennet sisters, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley. He needn't have bothered anyway, their hands were hidden from view by the positioning of their bodies and the light shadows courtesy of the slight recess they stood in. To any who cared, they simply looked like good friends sharing a manly-gossip. But still Denny couldn't help but worry that someone would eventually realise the true nature of their friendship. Sure they covered it well; flirting with as many women as possible and never actually doing anything unless they were sure there was no chance of being caught… well most of the time anyway. Concern crept over his face and he began to nibble on his lower lip.

"A penny for your thoughts," Chamberlayne almost whispered, ending the silence that had descended on their small part of the hall where they stood apart from the other spectators. Snatched from his melancholy thoughts, Denny smiled ruefully and began to relay his thoughts, "Oh you know, the normal – the danger, the utter unfairness of it all and-"

Chamberlayne cut him off with a swift glance and, "Yes, yes I know. That was why tonight was so perfect. No one at the barracks, late night out, general carousing…" While he spoke his face showed no true emotion only his diplomat's face which conveyed nothing. Denny mused that his own would be displaying a similar façade. Yet another deceit involved in loving the forbidden.

"We seem to be going in circles here; I know you're right in that respect but think how suspicious it would have looked if both of us had refrained from attending." Chamberlayne didn't bother responding, Denny was right, they were going in circles. Instead he turned his attention back to the dance, and followed the movements of Elizabeth Bennet with a startling intensity that made jealousy surge through Denny, it ripped through his stomach and closed around his heart like a hand of cold steel. He desperately flipped through the closets of his mind searching for something that would draw his companion's attention back to him and away from that far too attractive woman. He stumbled upon it just a minute or so before the dance would end, "We could slip out during dinner." Maybe he should have given it more thought before he'd aired it, he knew that there was no way to get out of this one. But the look Chamberlayne gave him was so worth any trouble they would get in if Forster found that they had left early. "Er, you know leave, then, er… go to one of the inns in Meryton for the rest of the evening returning to the barracks at the officers curfew and um insisting that we had been at the back of the party the whole time…" He trailed off, it was so ridiculous, and it would never work. He waited to hear laughter issuing from his partner, it was not forthcoming.

When he turned to Chamberlayne, he was honoured with the biggest smile ever. "Obviously it could use some fine tweaking, but other than that I think it's the best idea you've had all night."

"It's the only idea I've had tonight." Denny grumbled somewhat insulted, that he could consider something so dubious to be the best thing he could come up with.

"That's what makes it special," Chamberlayne replied somewhat smugly, "Just look out for me holding our belongings by this door," he finished pointing vaguely over his shoulder in the direction of the large door way that led to the dinning area. Around them people were beginning to migrate to the dinning hall since the last dance had concluded and the delicious smells of good food were ensnaring the guests. Chamberlayne pushed into the crowd, leaving Denny behind looking baffled, and greeted some officers and their partners. Then he offered a young lady his arm and led her to the dinning room flirting with her in the most charmingly inappropriate manner. Denny could only laugh as his friend threw a jocular grin over his shoulder, before disappearing through the doorway. Denny made to follow but he was caught by Captain Carter, begging for assistance to catch a renegade Bennet girl who had run off with his sword.

* * *

Chamberlayne's cheeks tinted pink over the rim of his raised wine glass that concealed a smirk. The same smirk which threatened to ruin the stance of disgust he had struck up as the commotion had entered the room. The disorder was in the form of one Lydia Bennet and a trail of yelling pursuers, including Denny. He briefly wondered how Denny had been caught up in such a disgraceful affair, until his mind reasoned that mischief followed Denny around like a bad smell. Deciding to take advantage of the situation he gulped down the rest of his wine and slid the empty, long-stemmed glass onto the nearest table. He backed out of the crowded room quietly into the near-empty foyer that was currently only populated by a few scurrying servants. Chamberlayne made a beeline for the bored looking servant who was stationed at a large alcove that was temporarily been used as a cloak room.

"Don't trouble yourself," he said to the lad, motioning for him to remain seated, "I just want to retrieve my hat and cloak. Just planning on taking a quick walk around outside, all the heat and wine, well you know…" he trailed off hoping that the young man would believe the decidedly suspicious story. The youth nodded and again made to rise, Chamberlayne bit his lip and his mind scrambled for something to say, "Don't," he rasped out. He cleared his throat before starting again, "I would rather retrieve it myself, if you don't mind," _fool, of course he wont let you get it yourself._ Disbelief and suspicion flashed across the boy's eyes, but his tone remained courteous and submissive, "Begging your pardon Sir, but no guests are to enter the cloak room. For security reasons, you understand, Sir."

Chamberlayne simply nodded in response and made a cursory attempt to form some sort of argument in his head before he opened his mouth. He was just about to speak when someone stumbled loudly into the room, crashing into the open door and cursing explosively. Initially Chamberlayne had been ready to throttle the interrupter, but when he heard their voice a large grin broke out over his face. As he turned to look at his friend he noticed the expression of shock on the serving boy's face, which simply caused Chamberlayne's smile to broaden even further.

When he saw Denny he nearly burst out laughing, the sandy-haired man was drunkenly swaggering towards them, often stumbling and nearly falling over. Plastered across his face was the most stupidly happy expression Chamberlayne had ever seen. He staggered to a halt next to Chamberlayne and threw a heavy arm over his shoulder for support. He, then, turned to Chamberlayne and slurred, "Y'got arr s-tuff yet?" before pitching his head forward to rest on Chamberlayne's shoulder, who turned his face back to the boy already set with an amended story to explain his friend's presence. "I'm sorry, but it seems I have been found out. I really intended to collect both mine and my friend's belongings without raising too much trouble by asking for two sets of hats and cloaks. You see, I had wished to protect him from gossip by hiding his inebriated state and simply leaving with him to get him to bed, before he could do something potentially reputation damaging. So would you be so kind as to retrieve the belongings of Lieutenant's Denny and Chamberlayne?" Chamberlayne was far more satisfied with this story; it was perfectly compatible with his earlier actions and also provided an excuse for Denny's previous misbehaviour. The lad stilled looked awe-struck from Denny's rather dramatic entrance, so simply nodded and retreated into the alcove to fetch their stuff.

"I don't think your timing could have been better, but what on earth possessed you to pretend to be intoxicated?" Chamberlayne murmured into Denny's hair. Denny raised his head and grinned proudly, "As soon as I noticed your absence from the Dining Hall, I quitted it inconspicuously and began my search for you. On the way here I noticed a person sprawled out on one of the chaise lounges that decorate the larger reception area to the left of here. Did you see them? They had really nice cream silk coverings, obviously yes…But back to the point, it was Mr Hurst and that provided me with the inspiration for my greatest performance yet. As for the timing, that was just chance," he waggled his eyebrows a few times before resuming his impersonation of a drunk man.

They successfully exited the grand house clad in their grey cloaks and hats, with Chamberlayne making a show of supporting Denny. When the youth had returned with their belongings Chamberlayne had, sounding quite desperate, begged the boy not to discuss his friend's state with the other servants, safe in the knowledge that he would and it would soon spread around the dining room like wild fire. Ensuring that Colonel Forster would hear about it and probably rebuke Denny violently tomorrow for drinking excessively and Chamberlayne for not directly informing him of their departure, but it would be worth it.

"We are going to be in so much trouble tomorrow," Denny stated as he mounted up on his horse. "Is the goal not worth it?" Chamberlayne questioned, as he too, levered himself into the saddle. Denny didn't bother replying; he just grunted and grabbed the reins of the other man's horse pulling both man and beast closer. None of the stable hands were present, they were all gathered somewhere near the kitchen for their dinner, so Denny felt sure he could get away with this. He gently cradled the back of Chamberlayne's skull and kissed him softly on the lips, making sure the other man understood that it was most definitely worth it. Twin grins tweaked at the corners of their mouths and gently they nudged their horses' flanks to get them moving out of the stables. The main gateway was clearly illuminated by a large pool of light, and just before they dived in they slowed their horses and Chamberlayne took possession of Denny's reins. Meanwhile Denny rearranged himself in the saddle to accommodate a drunken slump. Continuity was everything, their story must stay the same, and so as they passed by the footmen at the gate, Chamberlayne made a drinking gesture and tipped his head in his friend's direction. The men laughed and as they rode away, Chamberlayne distinctly heard them joking about a soldier's inability to hold his drink, unlike his sailing counterpart who could easily drink the heaviest drinker under the table. Apparently Denny heard them as well, "Great! My reputation is ruined! Can't hold my own indeed, I'm better than those pansy sailing boys…" he continued mumbling about his misfortune and the benefits of the army over the navy for some way before Chamberlayne told him to stop talking.

* * *

As they got closer to Meryton they decided to make use of the shadier inn that the town more concealed than boasted. You know, the kind that every town has, but no one talks about. As they dismounted in the inn's shabby stables Denny once again adopted the limited motor skills of intoxicated man and leant heavily on Chamberlayne, who obligingly wound an arm around his waist. Together they shuffled into the seedy establishment. As soon as they stepped into the dingy taproom they were met with a face full of smoke. The room was badly lit but not so much that they could not see the peeling paint or the general disrepair that enveloped the place. Unsurprisingly the pub was quite full, as these sorts normally are, with the shadier characters of any town. Avoiding the more pugnacious looking customers the pair clumsily wove their way to the bar.

At the bar they were regarded suspiciously by the barman who obviously knew most of his clientele as regulars. He looked the two young men up and down in the most disturbing fashion, making Chamberlayne feel quite filthy and Denny shiver. Gruffly he asked them how he could help them and Chamberlayne replied with yet another fabrication. "Er, as embarrassing as this is, my friend here is so inebriated that I can't take him any further. The barracks are on the other side of town and he was practically falling out of his saddle…and you really don't care do you?" he laughed weakly and cleared his throat before starting again, "How much for a room for two for one night?" The barman narrowed his eyes before informing them of the price of a room with two beds. One of the officers winced, the price named was extortion, it was ridiculously high and not just for a place like this. "I wonder, do you suppose the other inn would be cheaper, that's far more than our pockets can afford? It's not _that_ far is it?" Chamberlayne mused aloud, casting worried looks over Denny's slumped form, while watching the barman in his peripheral vision. The barman, obviously quite displeased at the thought of losing such rare business to the popular competition, grudgingly spoke up and gave them a cheaper price for a smaller room with only one bed, stating that the young man was in no condition to be travelling any further tonight. The kindly thought was marred by the money-loving leer that accompanied it. Both men hid their delight at his suggestion, one remained looking thoughtful, the other completely off his face and beginning to sway slightly. "Wouldn't be the first time we've had to bunk down together for the sake of finances…" Chamberlayne said, shrugging to add a little more reality to their act, and glancing at Denny. He turned to the barman and dug around in the pocket of his jacket, "Ah, thank you that would be most suitable. Should we pay now, we might be leaving quite early tomorrow?" The thin man nodded and held out a gnarled hand that was coated in a thin layer of grime. Gingerly Chamberlayne dropped the coins into his palm, which were immediately hidden from view by four greasy fingers. The man waved over a bar maid and brusquely informed her of the room to take the _gentlemen_ to, before he turned to another customer who he knew well.

The young looking girl headed off quickly after scooping up the two saddle bags that had been carelessly discarded on the counter by Chamberlayne to free his hand so he could retrieve the money from his pocket. She appeared to be reluctant to leave the bar area and the possibilities of chances for extra money. Chamberlayne raised his eyebrows at Denny, tightening his grip on his waist and grabbing the hand that was dangling over his left shoulder. "Come on, follow the lady here and you can go to bed and lie down, does that sound nice?" he encouraged patronisingly. Denny narrowed his eyes at Chamberlayne, before treading heavily after the curvaceous serving lass.

The room she led them too looked clean enough, especially when compared with the rest of the place. It was a small square room with wooden floors and whitewashed walls. Opposite the heavily sagging bed, was a small fireplace that had yet to be lit, in one corner there was a chipped wash basin upon a rickety wooden stand and another corner housed an old armchair. In front of the fire place was a tatty but nice enough rug which was probably the most pleasant item in the room. "Is there anything else I can do for you sirs?" she asked, dropping the bags by the door and looking at them from under her long dark lashes, leaning forward ever so slightly to reveal an ample cleavage. Denny winced and turned a pale shade that was totally appropriate for a sickly drunk. Chamberlayne shuddered as he caught her meaning, "Ah. No thank you, early start tomorrow and all… Is their any kindling and flint in here?" he asked in a strangled voice, desperate to change the topic. Looking affronted the girl unhooked a lantern from the hallway and handed it to him, stating that some kindling could be found in the small wicker basket to the left of the fireplace near the chair. Then she turned on her heels and stalked from the room, muttering something about 'prudes' and 'drunkards'.

"Hmmm, I remember when having the fire lit for you was all part of the service," Chamberlayne laughed walking over to the fireplace, unwinding his black sash as he walked before carelessly discarding it on the floor. He dropped to his knees beside it, tipped off his hat and began to get the fire going. Denny shook his head at his friend's poor taste in humour and walked over to the still open door and shut it, slipping the bolt into place, "Yes, and people used to shut doors behind themselves too." Chamberlayne chuckled from his place on the floor but didn't say anything. Denny detoured, on his way to the fireplace, to the lumpy armchair to dispose of his cloak, hat and the saddle bags. He walked over to where Chamberlayne was and reaching over his shoulders he unclasped the cloak and then settled it and the discarded sash with the other things on the chair. Again he joined Chamberlayne on the rug, but this time he sat down next to him and began to remove his black shoes, sash and red jacket. After he had created a neat pile off to the side of the three latest removed items, he nimbly began to role down his clingy white stockings. Satisfied with the blaze he had going, Chamberlayne finally sat back on his hunches. He smiled at Denny and leant over to kiss him, swiftly changing his position to a more comfortable one as their lips met. It was just a short kiss, simply to alleviate Denny's unease at the setting for their elicit love making. Settling back, he too took off his shoes and the heavy-fabric coat, typical of an officer of his majesty's army. Instead of folding them neatly as Denny had, he simply left them crumpled on the floor. The clothes heap was soon joined by a pair of knee-high men's stockings. "At least the sheets are clean," he said, lying back on the rug, grabbing Denny's hand as he did so. Denny smiled ruefully and flopped onto his side and watched the light flicker over Chamberlayne's face, determined to expel his melancholy mood.

Chamberlayne rolled over and reached across to set his deft fingers to the difficult task of untying Denny's cravat. His pink tongue darted out and was captured by straight teeth as his concentration amplified. Denny smiled at the adorable look and lent his own hand to the task, of course only making it harder to undo. Chamberlayne slapped his hands away and finished the task by himself. After he finished his slipped the fabric from his lover's neck and unceremoniously threw it aside. He then rolled on to his back and rested his hands on this chest. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes, and exposed his neck waiting for the favour to be returned. Denny raised an eyebrow, but untied it anyway, rolling it around his fingers before settling it on the ground by his own. He settled back at Chamberlayne's side and watched the rising and fall of his chest and the peaceful expression on his face. Gently he trace a finger down the profile of his lover's face and neck before curving his hand around the pale column and lowering his lips to the deep red ones below. It started off soft and slow, but soon Denny was applying a soft pressure to Chamberlayne's lips with his tongue begging for an entry it knew it would never be refused. With Denny still cradling his head off the ground, Chamberlayne wrapped his arms around Denny's neck and pulled him closer, impatient for the touch and heat that was so often denied because of societal circumstances. Denny smiled into his mouth, amused by the eagerness of his lover. When he felt a hand snake down his back and lightly mould around his bottom, the smile was quickly wiped from his lips as they contorted to groan gently into Chamberlayne's mouth. Then he felt Chamberlayne smirk against his mouth, breaking the kiss. Denny opened his eyes and first gazed at the saliva-glazed but not-yet-swollen lips; up over the pale, lightly freckled nose and finally to the normally dark brown eyes that were lit up to a golden chocolate colour by the fire. The eyes sparkled up at him with mischief and desire mingled with the eternal longing of love, he briefly wondered if his eyes gave away any of these feelings.

His gaze dropped back down to the supple lips in mind of kissing them raw, when suddenly Chamberlayne surged up and pressed their lips together roughly, rolling them over at the same time. He ended up clumsily straddling Denny's hips and crushing their chests together. Neither of them noticed the inelegant manner of their movements, they were totally lost in the sensation and thrill of the moment. Chamberlayne's hands were fisted in Denny's shirt, gripping him like a lifeline. Denny threaded his hands through the dark hair of the man above him and pulled him even closer, forcefully tangling their tongues together and coaxing a moan from Chamberlayne. Fingers slipped from the pale linen and desperately searched for the top button at the base of his lover's throat. Skimming his fingers over soft skin and then dipping them into fabric, Chamberlayne slipped the first button from its hole. His fingers flicked to the next one and slowly bit-by-bit he revealed more pale skin without ever interfering with the possession he had of Denny's mouth. Denny, meanwhile, had slid his fingers from Chamberlayne's hair to the base of his back; where he carefully pulled Chamberlayne's shirt from his trousers. His hands glided back up, under the rumpled cloth, over the smooth skin that sheltered muscles which flexed appealingly beneath his roaming hands.

Chamberlayne shivered as calloused hands ran over his spine, gently tracing all the subtle bumps and dips. The loving movements were caught only by the peeking gibbous moon that was straining to see through the grime on the window pane, and the warm glow of the fire. The two lights mingled together to help create a surreal scene that one would never expect to see in an upstairs room of a sleazy establishment. There was too much tenderness and care for it to be found here. The light and atmosphere, fused with the panting breaths and throaty groans cocooned the two men and stole them away from the harsh realities of their existence and the rowdy noise that filtered up through the wooden boards. Nothing else existed to them.

* * *

As the two clothed bodies rocked together and lips interlocked in a wet embrace, Colonel Forster was dancing gaily with his wife and enjoying every moment that was spent holding her tiny hands and feeling her panting breath on his cheek, he remained blissfully ignorant of the fact that two of his officers had disappeared.

* * *

Upon breaking the kiss and raising himself for the unfortunate necessity of air, Chamberlayne took in the flushed and dishevelled person below him. He quickly began to catalogue things away in his memory: swollen lips, pink cheeks and lidded eyes which were slowly widening to reveal sparkling eyes that were staring, it seemed, straight into his soul. His silent inventory was interrupted when white teeth flashed though the blood red lips and the pink cheeks crinkled with Denny's smile.

* * *

The dance had ended and his breath was stole from him: he was no longer a young man. His wife squeezed his hand and smiled before she slipped away to dance with another. The age difference between them didn't bother him, but he could never help but wonder what she really thought of him when she saw all those strapping young men, who still looked impressive in their bold red uniforms. Fighting to control his breath he headed to the nearest server and took a glass of sweet white wine.

* * *

"What are you doing?" he asked playfully, slowly beginning to push himself up. Chamberlayne grinned back, saying nothing, and pushed Denny back down with a tender shove in the chest. Reaching up Chamberlayne swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off; casting it aside without a thought for its destination.

"This," he replied eventually. He reached down with his hand and softly stroked Denny through the silky fabric of his breeches. His touch was as light as a feather but Denny felt every stroke. Pleasure uncurled from his lower regions and slowly spread throughout his body. It tingled in his fingers and made his toes curl. Leaning his body down, Chamberlayne captured Denny's parted lips. Lingering there for but a moment he raised his head and whispered, "Come to bed?"

* * *

The wine was a little warm for his liking, but still he sipped it; he needed something to do. His wife had rejoined him and brought an older Captain with her whose name currently escaped him. He wasn't really paying attention to the conversation until two names caught his attention.

"What did you just say?" He asked abruptly but not unkindly. Two sets of eyes turned to look at him curiously but the Captain obliged him.

"I was just saying that I heard that Lieutenants Chamberlayne and Denny had absented from the ball, citing Denny's apparent intoxication as an excuse. Of course it was just a floating rumour, probably started by some girl rejected by one or both of them." The Captain laughed and shrugged the issue off without another thought. The Colonel was not so ready to dismiss it; he hadn't seen either of the young men since dinner. And he was already in mind to berate Denny on his entrance to the dinner hall; maybe he had been drunk then. But why would Lt. Chamberlayne leave without informing him?

Suddenly his view was filled with the face of his wife and thoughts of Chamberlayne and Denny faded, "Dance with me?"

* * *

Denny nodded and pushed himself up into a sitting position, this time receiving no resistance from Chamberlayne. He gripped the back of Chamberlayne's head and plunged into a searing kiss that left both of them a little unsteady and denied of balance. A moment later Chamberlayne slowly uncurled his legs and stood; tugging Denny's hand with him, forcing the other man to stand; not that he was really inclined to disagree anyway. Both standing now Chamberlayne quickly stripped Denny of his already undone shirt and then reached for the white breeches: the type only worn, by officers, at special occasions. They were tight and clingy and hard enough to get off yourself, left alone somebody else.

"God, have you stuck these to your skin or something?" Chamberlayne asked exasperated, his hands around Denny's thighs where the pants were currently stuck; the waist line was completely bunched up making the job next to impossible.

Denny laughed, "Here, let me," he pushed Chamberlayne's hands away and started to amend the mess, "You take care of your own."

Chamberlayne pouted but did as he was told nevertheless; he wanted Denny as soon as possible, which meant now.

* * *

He stepped up to the dance area, hand in hand with his wife. He had thought to scan the crowd for the faces of his two lieutenants, but decided that it would be a wasted effort. He should just enjoy this time with his wife and anyway, the two young men were probably off being completely inappropriate with some young girl, who would undoubtedly never now the name of the man who inadvertently shamed her. The music began, stealing him from his thoughts, and he gladly took his place opposite his wife; he did not wish to think about his officers' misbehaviour of that manner.

* * *

With the irritating fabric finally removed, Denny pressed himself against Chamberlayne enjoying the thrill of naked skin touching naked skin. Chamberlayne moaned; the hiccup of but a few moments before, completely forgotten. Together the pair stumbled to the bed, neither willing to relinquish their hold of the other man. The back of Chamberlayne's knees hit the mattress and took his balance, pulling him down with a gravity all of its own. Denny followed in a more reserved manner, aligning his body with Chamberlayne's; always conscious not to hurt the other body. He smiled a Chamberlayne before lowering his head and kissing the exposed pale throat. He spent a little time there but was drawn down; mouth moving over the lightly muscled chest; devoting time to each nipple before he dropped his head further. Chamberlayne groaned a blasphemy.

* * *

The tempo increased and Colonel Forster was lost in the dance, all thoughts of Denny and Chamberlayne gone. He smiled at his wife before taking another lady's hand and swirling her through a few complicated dance steps, that left them both laughing merrily as he made a joke about the weave of the dance. He returned to wait for his wife's hand from the gentleman on the left. Another smile was shared between them before they moved about the floor together, weaving, turning and sidestepping to the music that was slowly reaching towards its crescendo.

* * *

Cool, wet fingers were inside him; teasing him open, and leaving him desperately gulping in large breaths of air. Determinedly he reached down and caressed the man above him willing him to take him. Denny muttered a curse before groaning Chamberlayne's name. He slid his fingers out of Chamberlayne and applied them to his own weeping cock, covering both it and Chamberlayne's hands in the oil they used as a lubricant. The job completed, he leaned down and tenderly kissed Chamberlayne, slowly pushing into him as he did so. A string of moaned profanities left Denny's mouth as he held himself still waiting for the signal to continue. He wasn't waiting long.

"Will you…please hurry up!"

Half smirking he tugged at Chamberlayne's erect member and set his pace: starting slowly and building up the speed as the climax approached.

* * *

The room and all its occupants were spinning by. The music was pumping through his veins; he could feel it vibrating through the hall; pulsing around his body. It was sweeping him away. The only face he could make out with any clarity was that of his wife. He could feel the cool damp of sweat on his forehead: the only outward sign of his exertion. The music got louder, it was pounding in his ears; his movement became the beat. And there it was: the peak of the song.

* * *

Sweat slicked bodies rocked together heedless of rhythm and elegance. Desperation suffused the room and underpinned all movement. Moans carried but a few centimetres in the stuffy room. They were swiftly getting closer and closer to that zenith of pleasure. Their movements became even more frenzied and then they were there. Explosions went off in Chamberlayne's head as he split his semen over Denny and himself. It felt like he was freefalling over the edge of a cliff toward a bottomless drop. Denny growled deep in his throat as he came in Chamberlayne. Sensations flooded his mind and body, and left him with a warm fuzzy feeling when they eventually slipped away. Chamberlayne steadied himself from his sensory descent and just floated in that mellow place of bliss and sleepiness.

* * *

The music began to slow and room started to reappear. He took a steading breath before taking his wife's hand and leading her to a cream couch, away from the hustle of the dance floor. He sat down heavily and grinned at her, controlling his breathing and cursorily wiping his arm across his forehead to remove the glistening sweat that he could feel there. She smiled him and murmured her intention to join the next dance, without him so he could rest. He watched her walk away and inwardly crumbled. Such was life, he supposed.

* * *

Denny was practically panting as he held his body above Chamberlayne's, he grinned wearily before rolling off to the side. Chamberlayne sighed contentedly and rolled onto his side. He wrapped his arms around the warm, wet body beside him and tucked his head into the crook between head and shoulder. Denny kissed the damp hair beneath his mouth and closed his eyes.

"I love you," Chamberlayne whispered into the darkness, not expecting a response. He was soon sleeping gently against Denny. Denny opened his eyes and looked down at the man curled against him, smiling as only a man in love could.

"Love you too." Then he let sleep carry him away.

* * *

There were many sore heads in the militia camp that morning. The men stumbled about in their shirttails and pants, wishing that God had never invented the substance alcohol. Colonel Forster was one who was not suffering from an excess of drink and he was dressed smartly in his uniform, taking little pity on his men who felt terrible. While he was trying to complete the impossible task of getting his men in order, Chamberlayne and Denny approached on foot (having already stabled their horses). His visage was stern and when he saw them it got worse. As he listened to Chamberlayne's tale with a few insertions from Denny, he said nothing. He felt no sympathy for Denny and was disappointed in Chamberlayne. His punishment was strict and uncompromising. Next social event to be held here or elsewhere, they would not be attending.

And he thought he was disciplining them.


End file.
